


Memento Huius Sabbati

by MediocreGatsby



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Body Switching of Sorts, Depressed Draco Malfoy, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Potions Accident, Self-Harm, Tags May Change, WIP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 17:17:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16163366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MediocreGatsby/pseuds/MediocreGatsby
Summary: Having to be potions partners was terrible enough, but then to have to test their potion afterwards on themselves? In their heart of hearts, neither one thinks they should be too surprised the potion turned out so horribly wrong. But oh, do they learn so much having to be forced to be each other for a week.





	Memento Huius Sabbati

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea I've been bouncing around in my head for a while. Like Iron Mask, I'm going to post this to gauge the interest in this. Please, if you get any ideas for this or have any suggestions for me moving forward, I'd absolutely love to hear them! This little thing is in its infancy, so all ideas are welcomed. And if someone feels really passionate about the idea and wants to adopt this to be its main author, I'm open to that as well.
> 
> Note: story begins at the end of March in their fifth year.

The _Memento Huius Sabbati_ potion, when done correctly, allows the drinker to re-live their last week in a mere matter of minutes. It would be a passing of highlights, reminding the drinker of things otherwise forgotten, to help them review what might have gone wrong perhaps, give one perspective going forward, and help plan future weeks during busy schedules.

It was also a relatively easy potion—when one wasn't partnered with their nemesis.

"Really, Potter, it's just Erumpent tails. You have to _untangle_ them before you cut!"

"I know that, Malfoy. I would do it if you _shut up_."

"Right, like how you menaced the goosegrass?"

"At least I remembered to pluck the caterpillar hairs."

"Yeah, _after_ I added the dandelion root."

"At least," came a deep voice behind them, "you both remembered the Jobberknoll."

Malfoy huffed and crossed his arms while Harry slowly turned around to face Snape.

"I don't know how you constantly cause general destruction wherever you go, Mr Potter, but I would advise you to allow Draco the lead here."

Malfoy gave Potter a superior little smug look.

"Careful," Snape warned him. "You might want to focus yourself, Mr Malfoy, as you _both_ will be drinking this to test the potion once it's finished."

Malfoy paled, and Potter smirked.

Half an hour later, the two teenagers glared at each as they tossed back their samples, and all at once, they both realised they had, indeed, gotten the potion _very_ wrong.

Draco groaned internally as consciousness beckoned him, his head pounding. He was lying in a bed, and he prayed he was in the hospital wing—that the potion simply knocked him out, and the worst of it would be a headache.

When he opened his eyes—an odd and unintentional throwing them open in a rush kind of motion—he tried to still, dread shoving his stomach up to his throat to take its place. His vision was blurry, but there was no mistaking all the red and gold.

 _Ah, fuck,_ he attempted to say, but his mouth didn't move. Wanting to frown, Draco tried moving—moving anything, anything at all, but his body merely laid there, blinking stupidly up at the ceiling. He realised then that his body was also breathing heavily, as though panting, but it was a distant, long-off sensation. Whereas he could feel dread very prominently in his own body, he could also make out the racing heart of an almost secondary body, that its skin felt clammy and chilled.

Draco was not an idiot. He was proud to admit he was very intelligent, in fact. He also, however, had avoidance and denial practised down into a fine skill, and despite realising exactly what was happening, he adamantly refused to believe it. There was no way. There was no way that Potter and he had messed up that blasted potion so much that he was about to witness and live out an entire week of bloody fucking Potter's life, stuck entirely in Potter's body, all without being able to do a damn thing or have any control.

The potion was supposed to allow the drinker to _review_ the past week, not relive it! Surely, this wasn't happening like his brain was trying to warn him it was. But as time ticked on in the quiet room and the barely-there body caught its breath and began to become reasonably calm, dread was becoming so palpable in him, it might as well have had replaced his blood.

There was a time, once, when he was three or four, he believed; he couldn't remember the circumstance, but he could remember his reaction to it. He cried, and shouted, and broke a lot of toys, and pushed a playmate down, and then threatened to hold his breath until he got his way. He remembered it vividly because it was one of the first times in his life where none of his tactics worked in his pursuit of fulfilling his wants and needs.

He actively tried _not_ to fall into that mindset as the body he was in finally set up, shoved on glasses, got out of bed, patted its bare feet across an atrocious dorm room, stepped into a washroom, used its wand to light the torches lining the walls, and looked into the mirror. But when Draco saw out through that secondary body's eyes, staring at its own reflection of Harry bloody Potter, Draco threw an internal tantrum that would have had his three-year-old self awed.

"Alright, there, mate?" came the voice of Weasley.

Potter's eyes swung to the doorway, taking Draco's vision with it. "Yeah," Potter tried to smile, then the echoed voice of Potter sounded in his head: _How long can I keep this up?_

The loud intrusion of thoughts in his head sent Draco into another internal ramped-up tantrum.

"You don't look it," Weasley said flatly.

"Just another nightmare, Ron," Potter sighed.

Weasley crossed his arms like the announcement of Potter having a nightmare annoyed him. "What's the point of all these Occlumency lessons if it's not going to work?"

Draco's brain came to an almost audible halt. _What?_

Potter sighed again. "I think I'd be better at it if—"

"If Snape wasn't teaching you," Weasley rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know. And I'm with you, mate, really, I am, but unless you can convince someone else to teach you, you've got to… I don't know. Try harder?"

"Try harder?" Potter spat. "I'm doing the best I can, Ron."

Potter than roughly pushed past Weasley into their dorm room again. A couple of their mates were stirring, Draco noticed, and it didn't seem like any single Gryffindor among them was a morning person in the least. Potter snatched up a toiletry bag and a towel, then stomped back into the washroom toward the shower stalls.

_No—no—no—no—no—no._

Draco's mind began hollering. Did Potter _have_ to shower right then? This was the absolute _last_ thing that Draco needed to happen. He began protesting with all his might, trying so hard to make the body he was stuck in _move_ , to gain _some—any_ control.

As Potter shut himself in the stall and began stripping, Draco froze altogether. Potter was getting naked. This was very quickly opening up a whole door of fantasies and—

_Please don't wank, please don't wank, please don't wank._

Potter stepped underneath the warm spray and sighed heavily. Another one of Potter's thoughts sounded loudly through their heads: _Try harder_ , it huffed. _Try harder?! I'd like to see how he'd fair having Snape invade his brain once a week._

Though not entirely over the shock of his current predicament or the distraction of going along for the ride as Potter ran his own soaped-up hands over himself, Draco began putting two and two together. Snape was supposed to be teaching Potter remedial potions. Not…

 _It's not my fault Snape's more interested in making me miserable than teaching me,_ Potter's thoughts reasoned. _But if I don't get some proper sleep soon, I swear, I'm going to lose it._

Occlumency? Jealousy spiked in Draco, and as he had no control to actually pout in this body, he let himself emotionally pout. He had asked Snape to teach him Occlumency back in fourth year. Snape told him no, that he was way too young. But Potter? Potter was a month younger than Draco! Oh, no, but sure, okay. Yeah. _Potter_ was old enough to learn.

Fine. _Glad he makes you miserable, you prick._

Completely unaware of Draco's presence, Potter began washing his hair, grumbling in his head about Snape and dreams about corridors and dead-ends. Draco tensed when Potter actually consciously debated whether to wank to relieve some stress or not, and found himself both relieved, but also extremely miffed at the missed opportunity, when Potter decided against it.

Not long after, Potter was dressing in his dorm while his dormmates officially roused and began taking showers themselves. Weasley seemed determined to stick with Potter and dressed quickly so they could leave together.

All the while, Draco desperately tried to do something—anything, have some kind of effect or make Potter aware he was there.

But as always, he was completely, wholly, and irrefutably invisible to Harry Potter.

 

It felt like being knocked out only to immediately be catapulted into consciousness, like being flipped from deep waters to a shallow pool, his stomach jarring painfully. He knew he should have made a yelp, some kind of sound, flail or _something_. Should, being the word.

Instead, it took him an arguably unreasonably amount of time to realise he was jogging, instead, at a steady clip, and someone was talking next to him.

"—not saying she isn't alright, mind—"

Harry inexplicably snorted and interrupted with a slightly winded, "Blaise, if you can't admit you drool over her like she's a goddess, I don't know how I'm going to stomach the rest of this conversation." Then he turned his head slightly to smirk at… Zabini?

Harry blanched.

"Fine, fine, she's a goddess. But she's also a bitch. We already deal with enough negativity, y'know?"

Though Harry was completely frozen in his own kind of wide-eyed shock, the body he was in sighed, shaking its head. "Yeah, I know, Blaise. But if you just talk to her—"

"Don't you think I tried?" Zabini complained as he and the body Harry was in jogged around an edge of the Black Lake, heading toward the castle. "She just insults me then ask if _you've_ mentioned her lately."

Harry's eyes rolled. "Please, don't tell me any more."

Zabini shrugged. "Just fair warning. I told you it was the wrong decision to invite her to the Yule Ball last year."

As the conversation continued, Harry began to catch up, especially when the body he was in looked down shyly as Zabini teased something about 'beards', whatever they had to do with the conversation about girls going on, and he recognised the body he was attached to. It was wearing Slytherin exercise clothes, sweat-through, and Harry could spot the white-blond falling in front of his eyes anywhere.

He was in _Draco Malfoy's_ body.

"It's your own fault," Zabini was telling him.

"What?" Harry and Malfoy scoffed before Harry realised Zabini wasn't talking to him.

"If you didn't stare at Potter all the time, she wouldn't get so jealous."

Though Harry, theoretically, was frowning, confused by that declaration, Malfoy stumbled in his jog, and Harry could distantly feel his cheeks heat. "I don't stare at Potter."

"Oh please," Zabini rolled his eyes and smirked at Malfoy pointedly. "If you can't admit you drool over him like he's a god, I don't know how I'm going to stomach the rest of this conversation."

Malfoy chuckled, though Harry could still feel his cheeks heated, like Malfoy's senses were just close enough to him to feel with his fingertips. "Touché," Malfoy shook his head, then sighed, and Harry could feel something inside Malfoy turning abruptly serious.

"Anyway," Zabini continued, "the whole thing is just exhausting. You know, that's a real drawback with us becoming the older students. Our dating pool just gets smaller and smaller."

Malfoy snorted humourlessly as the two of them jogged up the castle's steps and into the entrance hall. The sun was just barely rising, and Harry wondered how anyone could be put together enough to get up and apparently do laps around the lake this early.

The two boys ceased in their jogging and merely strode in silence across the entrance hall, heading toward the dungeons. They passed by a couple of ghosts and Professor Sprout, none of whom seemed slightly surprised to see them.

When they began taking the twists and turns Harry recognised led to the Slytherin dorms, Malfoy said very quietly, "Blaise… uh, the Potter thing…"

Zabini swatted Malfoy's shoulder good-naturedly. "I don't think anyone else has noticed. I've noticed because of how easily I can beat you at hangman in History, and Pans noticed because she's obsessed with you. But I don't think anyone else has."

Something ugly twisted in Malfoy, and Harry, though wildly trying to decide what exactly had gone wrong that he was in _Draco Malfoy's_ body, was curious about the sensation. It was a little nauseating if he was honest.

"Buck up, mate," Zabini smiled at him. "It's a new day."

"Have I ever told you your optimism is infuriating in the mornings?"

"Precisely why I'm only optimistic this time of day."

Malfoy huffed a small laugh and gave a password to a large stretch of stone wall. An archway immediately appeared, and Harry found himself surprised by the stark difference from what he remembered. Whereas, when Ron and he snuck into the Slytherin commons in second-year, the dorms were dark and mostly empty, now, they were bright with the morning sun beaming through the lake outside the windows, and there was a buzz of activity.

A lot of the older students were in similar exercise clothing, crossing the commons, some of them stretching, laughing with the friends, obviously ready to leave for a run or some other. Younger students were zipping in out of doors in various states of getting ready for the day, frantically searching the common room for this or that. The common room itself looked a lot cosier and friendlier than he remembered, what with students' belongings thrown everywhere in a weirdly structured organised mess.

Malfoy and Zabini headed straight for their dorms, waving hello's to some, nodding to others, and when they opened the door that said FIFTH YEARS on it, they paused and sighed. Nott sat on one of the five beds in the large circular room, fully dressed and clipping his nails, but Crabbe and Goyle were still curled up in theirs, fast asleep.

"Not my turn," was all Nott said in greeting.

"I've got them," Zabini volunteered.

"Bless you," Malfoy grinned. "I'll go first in the showers."

 _Oh, god_ , Harry thought. The very last thing he needed in his life was embodying a naked Malfoy. He was grimacing internally as he helplessly watched Malfoy gather a robe, towel, and bag and take off back into the hallway heading to a different door. Their washroom was huge, Harry noticed, and also elaborate in the stonework. The torches shone merrily, and the windows were just as big and arched as the other ones; the lake through them almost looking like part of the chamber's decorations.

Malfoy secreted himself away in one of the farthest shower stalls, carefully stripped, and turned on the spray that immediately came out in the perfect temperature. Harry tried to close his eyes, he really did, but alas, nothing he tried gave him any control to not look wherever Malfoy look, hear whatever Malfoy heard, and feel whatever Malfoy felt. He felt unbelieving embarrassed how his focus zeroed in on Malfoy's prick anytime Malfoy's eyes looked anywhere near it, and he couldn't believe himself, he really couldn't, because he actually got an odd thrill at getting a peek.

But that ugly feeling inside Malfoy was still stirring, growing larger, and Harry found himself completely centred on that as Malfoy slowly slid to the floor of the stall, the water pounding down on him like rain, and Malfoy reached over and pulled out a sharp razor from his bag.

 _What are you doing?_ Harry found himself trying to ask the boy.

He got his answer quickly though. Stretching one leg out, Malfoy focused on his inner thigh were there were dozens and dozens of cuts and small scars. Harry watched, appalled and disbelieving, as Malfoy slowly and reverently added three more to his collection.

All the many, many thoughts going on in Malfoy's head that Harry could feel like out-of-control racquetballs slowed then ceased. That ugly twist inside Malfoy eased as Malfoy watched how his blood caressed down his skin. When Malfoy once again seemed calm, he let his head fall back against the stone and took long, deep breaths.

Then loud thoughts in Malfoy's voice began booming in their heads: _Should I even try to heal these? I deserve worse than this. God, how fucked up is it that I actually want to have scars? What I wouldn't do to have one thing,_ just one fucking thing, _in my life that wasn't so bloody perfectly pureblood posh._

Malfoy's throat became very tight. Though Harry couldn't see into Malfoy's mind's eye, he got the distinct impression that specific, and seemingly painful, memories were playing in there like a domed theatre.

Then Malfoy's thoughts spoke again: _Stop—stop—stop—stop. Don't think about that—don't think about that—don't think about that._

With a tremendous amount of effort that Harry didn't even think he himself could possess, Malfoy was on his feet, cleaning out the new cuts he made. Then he turned off the water quickly and patted his thigh dry before digging into his bag and pulling out a small roll of gauze. He wrapped his secret securely, tossed on his robe, and exited with his head held high, back straight, and as though he had all the confidence and arrogance in the world.

 _Oh my god,_ Harry thought _, has that always been fake?_

Whatever mess Harry was in now, however he needed to fix this, he found himself wanting to learn more about Draco Malfoy.

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea I've been bouncing around in my head for a while. Like Iron Mask, I'm going to post this to gauge the interest in this. Please, if you get any ideas for this or have any suggestions for me moving forward, I'd absolutely love to hear them! This little thing is in its infancy, so all ideas are welcomed. And if someone feels really passionate about the idea and wants to adopt this to be its main author, I'm open to that as well.
> 
> Thanks so much for taking the time to read! Please comment and leave kudos if you like.


End file.
